InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ No Inspiration ❯ My Beautiful Inspiration ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I'm poor, I live in a house that's falling apart, and my internet doesn't work half the time. Do you really think I own anything other than a hentai/yaoi/yuri closet? No, I didn't think so.

My Beautiful Inspiration
Chapter 4

Glowing silver strands surrounded him as he gracefully eased himself back into step; Kagome, was not so lucky. She tripped over her feet for another few feet before she finally got ahold of herself and took a better look at him. She still couldn't believe it, he was here, alive, when he and his race were supposed to be long dead. He was still beautiful and full of that same ethereal grace, just like the last time she had seen him, in the bright shining light of the sun in a forest of Kami knew how long ago.

 

"A ... ano ..." she started, not quite knowing what ot say, not even knowing if he would remember her at all.

 

Standing there, in the glow of neon signs and shop lights, she realized just how majestic and untouchable he was. If he was the same demon boy she'd met for those few seconds years ago, why would he remember her? It had probably been centuries for him and there had been wars and revolutions and the world had changed so significantly that she was most likely nothing more than a minor annoyance to him in the grand scheme of things. But still, she wanted him to remember her, the way she remembered him and it was so irrational and selfish that she was immediately ashamed of herself for thinking such a thing.

 

“Aisumimasen. I should have paid more attention to where I was going.”

 

He didn't utter a word to her, only barely glancing over her form with those molten gold eyes before he turned and walked away. His hair, bound at the back of his neck, swayed slightly with every graceful step he took, taunting her, accusing her and she found she couldn't look away. Kagome was mesmerised in his movements and then he was gone. Disappeared in the haze of neon signs and throbbing music of downtown Kyoto.

 

Kagome huffed snapping out of her daze, her emotions shifting from one side of the spectrum to the other, how rude could some people be? She had apologized, but he had looked at her as if she were some sort of leper then simply waltzed off, like a snotty ballerina. Sure, she'd wanted to tell him off for being such an arrogant asshole, but her better judgment told her that doing such a thing wouldn't be too incredibly smart. The anger she felt just beneath her skin simmered just as quickly as it had started to boil up, and she remembered her skin screaming at her when he had touched her, when he was close to her. Something deep inside of her had shrieked at her to get away from him, far away, no matter how enchanting and familiar he seemed. She sensed power inside of him, power and danger and Kami was he gorgeous. Kagome couldn't help it, she was a girl, and every girl liked a gorgeous guy ... demon ... oh shit what was she thinking? He was dangerous ... the fact that he was the daiyoukai, the young demon boy she had seen, was utterly undisputable now. If she could feel his power brushing up against her skin like waves of water, then he had to be something other than human. But a new realization struck her just then. The daiyoukai from the shadows of both the book and her mind had a face, an identity, and then excitement decided to cut into her veins like a life-giving I.V. feed.

 

Her emotions were taking her on a roller coaster rife, and Kagome had a feeling of both dread and thrill that she might never be able to get off this particular ride. Hell, her midterms were as good as done now. Her muse was fed, the wall shattered, and if she wanted to get anything done in the next two weeks she had to get to work as soon as possible. Oh, this was just too perfect. The face she'd been looking for had found her again; just like that, she had inspiration, a cure to the artists's ultimate disease. Kagome already knew enough demon lore to complete the transformation from human to demon. Because she had studied markings and armor, clothing and even sword design, she was set. Now all she had to do was come up with six different perspectives and then she would paint them down on the canvases no problem. She giggled out loud at her joyous discovery and danced all the way home.

 

~^-.-^~ NEKO!!!!

 

Since the early hours of the morning, Kagome had been sketching furiously, as if trying to shove every one of her ideas into a single image. She had all but danced in the door the night before, looking positively giddy, then she'd taken a shower and gone strait to bed. But images of the demon danced through her dreams just as she had danced through the streets last night. She saw crescent moons in brilliant sapphire blue and two pairs of res streaks of neon light, but mostly, she had been haunted by those stoic golden eyes. Now, she tried to extract every movement he had made and put it onto the paper before her, as if doing so would unlock some door that lead to all the answers she was searching for. Both recycling bins in the apartment were impossibly full of drawn-on-then-crumpled-up paper that looked to belong to a whole class full of artists and not just one. But the fact that Kagome was the only person awake at seven o'clock in the morning on a Sunday was proof enough that she was the only source of the ruined paper.

 

He looked so cold, she thought as she pushed the dying pencil across a clean sheet of paper. But he seemed sad, lonely, when I was reading the book, almost as if he knew he was being done away with. It's like he was wearing a mask or something, like he was trying to appear unemotional so that nothing would hurt him. Wait...that's it!

 

The image from Kagome's mind flowed through her pencil, shapes taking form as actual things. Her own scrutiny guided the lines of graphite that colored the sketch paper, other, lighter lines providing for crude shading. Notes and pointers were written next to certain areas, thoughts along with sudden ideas bordering the edges of the paper. And she was so involved in her art, her attempt to re-create a preternatural perfection on paper that, once again, she didn't notice when Sango looked over her shoulder at what she was doing.

 

“Wow!” her friend exclaimed, “where did you get that idea?”

 

Kagome hadn't jumped out of her seat as the ebony eyed girl expected, instead she simply stopped, all functions frozen in place. For a few moments she said nothing, only looked over what she'd drawn, what she had created. Then she took a deep breath and came out of her strange trance-like state, her eyes focusing for the first time on the image borne from the chaotic thoughts swimming around in her head.

 

“What was that you said?” Kagome asked.

 

Sango smirked at her friend, “I asked where you got your idea from.”

 

“Oh, well...I went downtown yesterday afternoon, you know, to try and clear my head. Then I somehow ended up assessing every aspect of this youkai no kimi I read about in one of the books I bought last weekend,” she motioned towards to her raggedy dress shirt that was lying on the floor, the notes she'd jotted down on the back facing her. “Then, on my way back here, I ran into this…I guess…raver, thechno-junkie kinda guy. Anyhow...he kind of, I dunno...he seemed like he was frozen, but that doesn't sound right.

 

“It was so weird, Sango-chan, 'cause I think he's the booy that I met the first time I saw into the Sengoku Jidai book! He older, though, I mean, he's not the same cute little guy I saw in th eforest. Oh, no, he is freaking gorgeous. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not going to get obsessed or anything, I'll most likely never even see him again. But I'm only going to use his face, he'll be my un-official model.”

 

Sango gave her a weak smile, looking like she wanted desperately to tell her something, but then she turned back to Kagome's sketch. For a moment, Kagome wanted to know what her friend was hiding, what she'd get that look on her face for, but she didn't press tha issue, Sango would tell her when the time came, she always did. Then she went back to skimming her eyes over the graphite lines on the paper, looking to make sure she hadn't missed any details of importance.

 

“You want some coffee? I heard you get up at like two in the morning,” she offered as her friend looked over the sketch again and again, searching for any missed details.

 

“Sure! You should tell me how things are going between you and Souma-san as well. I need to know if I should give him any more pointers or whatnot, now that you're seriously dating,” she said, gazing back up at Sango with a bright smile.

 

So the two of them headed towards the kitchen, Sango to brew coffee and Kagome to fry a couple of tomagoyaki for a quick breakfast. They were something her mother had taught her how to cook long before she'd been accepted into the university, but because making them was easy and quick, they were the perfect breakfast for busy college students. And soon after, the smells of good food and even better coffee filled the two room flat. A few minutes later, the two girls sat across from each other at the abused black lacquer table, eating their tomagoyaki and drinking deeply of the 'nectar of life'.

 

“So, where did Souma-san take you for dinner?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

 

“We went to the new restaurant uptown, you know, the really fancy Italian one?”

 

“Oh, how sweet, did the two of you have a lot of fun?”

 

Sango nodded and smiled joyously, “Yeah, thanks for giving us the idea. You're just too good to me sometimes, Kagome-chan.”

 

“You're my best friend, that's what I'm here for. Besides, now Souma-san will quit asking me about you all the time,” she laughed. “Are you two going to do anything else this weekend or are you going to wait until next Friday?”

 

“Why?” the other girl asked with an exaggerated snort. “Are you that interested in being here all by yourself that much?”

 

“No, no!” Kagome waved her hands defensively, “I was just wondering, honestly. I think it's really great that the two of you get along so well. Besides, you look a lot happier than you have for ... well, fo ra while now.”

 

It was true; Sango had gotten to be more and more pleasant each day that she spent with Miroku. He seemed to cleanse her very soul, the fact that he was a lecher notwithstanding. As it turned out, Miroku was the descendant of a line of lecherous houshi, dating all the way back to the Sengoku Jidai. It was this very fact that had drawn Kagome to him. He had even told her of his family's history when he had learned of her fascination with the Sengoku Jidai Era.

 

“Ne, Kagome,” Sango said suddenly, drawing her from her thoughts, “How come you aren't dating anyone?”

 

She couldn't help it, she had to laugh. Not because her friend's question, no, it was far from funny. But she laughed because nearly everyone she knew had asked her that same question. “Gomen,” she muttered, her laughter dying mere seconds later, “I just don't think I would date anyone here.”

 

At this admittance the ebony eyed girl cocked an eyebrow, “Why not?”

 

“Here, in this university, we are all consumed by our art," she said, her words suddenly turning strange and serious. "We live for each breath of inspiration and in doing that we don't have time for anything or anyone else. You're lucky in that you have a knack for what you do; you have tons of free time left to you. I, however, don't have the luxury of time at all. Besides, I'm content enough with the way I am right now.”

 

“You're content?” she asked skeptically, “You mean you actually like watching people go out with their significant others while you don't have anyone to spend time with? You like watching couples pass you when you walk down the street when you're all alone?”

 

“I really don't understand what you're getting at,” Kagome stated, confusion crossing her features, “I spend time with you and Miroku-san.”

 

“That's not what I meant and you know it.” Kagome sighed and looked down at her empty plate on the table, shaking her head slightly.

 

“Sango, for someone to be truly content, they must be able to find joy in the happiness of others.”

 

“Everyone needs someone to complete them, Kagome. You're no exception. I'm glad you got Miroku and me together, I really am, but I wish you'd let me return the favor.”

 

“But, Sango,” Kagome said in pretend shock, “didn't you already know that art is my one true love and that there can be no other?”

 

The two of them laughed at the truly lame attempt at humor, and Sango had apparently decided that she'd let the subject go for now. “Gee, Kag-chan. You're an artist, a director of drama, a writer of poetry, and to top it all off, you've taken up philosophy as well. No wonder you don't have time for a relationship with a real guy, you're balancing four different affairs.”

 

~^-.-^~ NEKO!!!!

 

Sango did indeed have a date with Miroku that day and Kagome was left at the apartment by herself. She had gone out to the art supply store earlier that day and bought a few more sketch pads as well as a couple dozen pencils. Her drawing session that morning had nearly famished her entire two-year collection of drawing utensils and paper. Not to mention she'd had to empty both recycle bins into the university's paper dumpster, and that had nearly gotten her into trouble; students weren't supposed to use the recycle dumpster, something about it overflowing if they did… So now Kagome was sitting on her barstool in front of a blank canvas, trying to decide whether or not the sketch she'd drawn earlier was good enough for her still-frame drama. True, it was extremely elegant and spoke volumes, but would it do justice for the daiyoukai?

 

This indecision was maddening, she couldn't believe that she was debating over a sketch that she knew to be ingenious, because of a character in her head. Not to mention that she had looked for his face all over Kyoto and made a complete ass of herself in front of what was probably the most gorgeous guy she would ever meet. This was getting to be ridiculous. She picked up a paintbrush, dipped it into one of the many colors she had prepared and brushed a stroke onto the fabric. Another stroke followed and another, until all Kagome knew was the colors and the shapes. An occasional glance was spared to the sketch paper; but the paper was not meant to be a blueprint, merely a set of rules to keep her inside the lines and on the right track. Shade after color, curve after baseline, she let her masterpiece unfold, staining the canvas in a flurry of both brilliance and ignorance. Or maybe it was insanity, she couldn't tell anymore. For nearly three hours, she was entranced in her silent dance of artistic movement and soft colors. Then, with one final stroke of color, she was finally finished.

 

Despite her earlier anger at her mindset concerning the daiyoukai, she felt that she had done well, given the limited information available to her. The perfectly sculpted face now had two magenta stripes adorning each cheek and a sapphire blue crescent moon in the middle of his forehead framed by those otherworldly silver bangs. He wore a white hakama, which had a red sakura blossom pattern adorning his left shoulder and bulky iron armor covering his chest. Silky silver hair hung loose over behind him while snow fell in front of a mountain in the background. But it was what the daiyoukai was doing that actually made the painting as moving as it was.

 

He held in his left hand a stoic looking fukumen no furui, and it was held with graceful fingers over only a part of his face. The part of his face that the mask didn't cover was full of a silent kind of sorrow, as if someone he had cared for deeply had been taken from him and he felt sole responsibility rested on his shoulders. A part of her soul wanted to cry, to be ashamed for portraying such a heart-wrenching scene, but it was the part of her that wanted to understand the daiyoukai that stood up highest. It was this part of her that allowed her to say, “I did a really good job, way to go, Kagome” that spoke the loudest. So she set down her paintbrush and once she actually saw the lonliness she'd poured from her heart onto the canvas, she found it hard to look at and turned away.

I shouldn't have painted that, she thought to herself, still looking away from the canvas she'd just completed. I don't have the right to push my feelings onto him, even if he'll never see this.

Kagome wondered what she should do with it for a moment. Should she burn it or keep it? Would she allow her emotions to override her common sense or would she get over it and turn it in to Nanada-sensei so that she'd be that much closer to a passing grade? Then she shook her head, planting her paint-covered hands firmly over her ears as she smacked her head against a proverbial brick wall. She was being so damn stupid, she couldn't allow herself to fail just because she was worried about what he would think. Hell, he wouldn't even see it after midterms were over, no one would. So there was nothing to worry about, right?

~^-.-^~ NEKO!!!!
Fucking ahhhhhh! I don't know why the HELL all of my chapters are being so fsucking retarded with the formatting, it loses I tell you, loses ... right in the face! But I fixed it I hope, happy reading.
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